


Not Quite the Ritz, But It'll Do

by LillysoftheValley



Series: Allsorts - A Collection of Assorted GO Ficlets [9]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alcohol, Anniversary, Dining at the Ritz (Good Omens), Established Relationship, Fluff, Food, Humor, M/M, Picnics, Romance, post not-apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:35:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23951653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LillysoftheValley/pseuds/LillysoftheValley
Summary: Crowley tries to arrange the perfect anniversary date, but Aziraphale already has something in mind.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Allsorts - A Collection of Assorted GO Ficlets [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1650484
Kudos: 25





	Not Quite the Ritz, But It'll Do

**Author's Note:**

> Another bit from my Ineffable Inktober series - appropriate for today 5.1.20 - as it's the 30th anniversary of the book.

"Oh for Heavenssake!"

Crowley almost slammed the receiver down, but stopped at the last possible second and let it fall gently back in the cradle. He pillowed his head in his arms and took deep breaths until he calmed down a little. Aziraphale would be very cross if he managed to break another phone.

They just don't make them like they used to dear, he would say. And I have an aesthetic to maintain.

Crowley had tried, unsuccessfully, to at least get him to upgrade to something touchtone, but the angel had staunchly refused. Taking one last breath, Crowley raised his head and ran both hands through his hair. It just wasn't possible.

Every single restaurant was booked. Even the Ritz. The Ritz! Where just coming in the door was enough for a table to suddenly be available for them. But oh no! By some cosmic fluke, everyone else in the city had also decided they needed to celebrate something today and Crowley was left high and dry without a reservation.

And it wasn't as if he hadn't planed ahead, either. Months he'd been getting ready for this, picking the right champagne, making sure strawberries would be just at the peak of the season, and - most importantly - booking a blessed table! But somehow, at every turn, he'd been denied. Him! And no amount of miracling would fix it, either. He groaned softly. If he wasn't sitting in the bookshop, he would have been sure he'd been sent back to hell where some upstart corporate climber was cutting their fangs on taking the mickey out of him.

There was nothing for it; he would have to tell Aziraphale the bad news. And on their anniversary, too. THE anniversary.

Crowley would say every day was some anniversary or another, just because he could.

"Oh! what are these for?" Aziraphale would ask delightedly when presented with another bouquet, or box of chocolates, or, on one memorable occasion, a handmade card.

"Well don't you know angel? It's the anniversary of the first time you bought me lunch."

Or: "The first time I did a miracle for you."

Or: "The first time we fed the ducks."

The reason was always something small, and they often repeated, and always on a different day, but Aziraphale loved them all the same. He would smother Crowley with thanks and affection and promise to remember next year, which of course was impossible, even for an angel, but that wasn't really the point.

But this was different. This was THE anniversary. When everything had changed and they'd almost lost everything, lost each other, and had ended up on their own side together. This simply HAD to be special, and celebrated with more pomp and circumstance than a flower or a card. Crowley bit back a cry of frustration and pushed himself up from the desk to find Aziraphale.

"Angel? Angel, are you here?" Crowley frowned. The flat upstairs was deserted. He popped over to his: no blonde head bent among his plants and filling their fronds with all kinds of sentimental nonsense. Neither was he at the park, nor Portabello poking through the antique book stalls. He wasn't even feeding the pigeons. Crowley appeared back at the bookshop, starting to worry. It wasn't like Aziraphale to up and leave. He was about to just start driving around when the bell jingled.

Aziraphale appeared in the doorway, all smiles, holding something behind his back. "Crowley? There you are dear! Are you ready?"

"Angel! Where have you been?"

"I was shopping. Didn't you see my note?" Aziraphale pointed to the little table by the phone where the very edge of a card peeked out from under the phone book. Crowley smacked himself on the forehead.

"I'm sorry, angel. I was - "

"Yes, you've been on the phone all morning. Have you finally finished?"

"I, uh, well - " Crowley sighed, gearing up to break the news.

"Because I was hoping to take you on a little picnic." With a grin, Aziraphale revealed that he was holding a large hamper.

Crowley stared down at it in confusion. "A picnic?"

"Yes, out in the country somewhere. Nice and quiet, just the two of us."

"Angel, I - "

"Wonderful! Come along, dear. I want to watch the sunset." Aziraphale grabbed Crowley's hand, pulling him out the front door before he had a chance to think. He let the Bentley drive most of the way, still trying to wrap his head around what was happening. Aziraphale just smiled contentedly next to him and didn't even complain about the speeding.

They pulled up several hours later in a little country lane somewhere. The hills rolled out below them, dotted with sheep, turning golden in the sunset. Aziraphale took his hand again and went to find just the right spot. They spread out the blanket and Crowley finally satisfied his curiosity as to what was in the hamper.

"All your favorties," Aziraphale said with a smile.

"And champagne?"

The angel blushed. "Well, it is a special occasion, after all."

"It is?" Crowley played the innocent almost too well, which made Aziraphale laugh.

"Is that why you were on the phone all day? Trying to arrange something?"

"Oh, it was a nightmare!" Crowley moaned, flopping down on the blanket. "All my reservations disappeared. I couldn't even get the Ritz! Must be the moon or something."

Aziraphale hummed in amused agreement as he poured the champagne, handing one glass to Crowley. "Yes, it certainly must be a special day all right."

Crowley narrowed his eyes, took of his glasses, sat up, and narrowed them again. "Did you have something to do with this?" Aziraphale only took a sip of champagne. Crowley scooted around to look him in the face. "Angel, did you let me sit on the phone all day thinking I'd ruined our anniversary just so we could have a picnic?"

Aziraphale had the grace to look a little guilty. "Are you upset?"

Crowley nodded, but said "No." He smiled. "No angel, of course not. But you could have just said."

"I know, but you always like going out."

"Angel, I like going out because you like going out!"

They both stared at each other for a moment, then collapsed with laughter.

"We really are a pair, aren't we?"

"We have another 6,000 years to figure it out," Crowley said.

"Happy anniversary, dearest." Aziraphale held up his glass, tapping it reverently against Crowley's. "I know it's not the Ritz but - "

Crowley cut him off with a soft kiss. "No, Aziraphale. It's better."


End file.
